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Morse 


Robert  Louis  Stevenson  as  I  foiind  him 


1 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ROBERT    LOUIS   STEVENSON. 


Robert  Louis  Stevenson 


as  I  Found  Him 
in   His  Island   Home. 


By 
CAPTAIN    HIRAM    G.  MORSE. 


Copyright,   1902, 

by 

HIRAM   G.   MORSE. 


RESPECTFULLY   DEDICATED 


TO   THE    FRIENDS   AND   ADMIRERS 


OF 


ROBERT   LOUIS   STEVENSON. 


853927 


y 


Robert   Louis  Stevenson  as   1   Found   Him 
in  His  Island  Home. 


P.Y 


Capt.  H.  G.  Morse, 
Ex.  S.  S.  "Alameda." 


Many  have  asked  why  this  author  should 
have  settled  in  such  an  out-of-the-way  place. 
My  reply  was  that,  as  Mr.  Stevenson  had 
been  an  invalid  for  3^ears  and  searched  for  a 
climate  most  suital)le  for  himself,  he  finally 
fixed  on  "Apia"  in  the  Samoan  group. 
Although  an  invalid,  he  was  capable  of 
greater  exertion  than  many  who  were  appar- 


enth^  his  superiors  ph5^sically.  His  wonder- 
ful will-power  to  accomplish  whatever  he 
undertook  was  noticeable  when  some  self- 
imposed  task  would  be  done  that  an  ordinary 
person,  in  good  health,  would  shrink  from. 
He  would  plunge  headlong  into  the  work, 
whatever  it  might  be,  at  the  desk  or  climb- 
ing over  some  untrodden  part  of  the  island, 
straining  ever}^  nerve  and  muscle  to  keep 
pace  with  his  thoughts.  With  his  active  brain 
he  could  give  a  dozen  orders  to  as  many 
different  persons  without  even  changing  the 
tone  of  his  voice,  or  he  could  sit  quietl}^  in 
his  boat,  apparently  as  unconscious  as  a 
native,  waiting  for  the  mail  steamer  to 
anchor  and  the  side  steps  (gangway)  to  be 
lowered.  At  the  first  glance  one  would  have 
thought  him  a  tourist  coming  on  board  to 
look  around  or  to  see   what  was  going  on. 


Once  upon  his  feet  he  was  all  action,  mov- 
ing with  an  air  becoming  his  name,  and  bow- 
ing gracefully  to  those  who  recognized  him. 
On  his  gaining  m}^  room,  and  seated  on  the 
floor  like  the  natives,  he  would  commence  to 
prepare  a  cigarette,  asking  such  questions  as 
were  to  him  the  most  important.  His  counte- 
nance was  no  index  to  his  thoughts,  further 
than  that  he  appeared  eager  for  a  few  head- 
lines of  what  the  outside  world  w^as  doing 
and  which  evidently  he  would  grasp  before  I 
had  finished.  His  penetrating  e3^e  was  suffi- 
cient to  keep  one  from  ever  attempting  to 
exaggerate  whatever  he  wanted  to  know.  I 
was  always  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he 
invariabh'  anticipated  what  a^ou  were  about 
to  say  and  had  commenced  to  think  of  some- 
thing else.  At  no  time  nor  under  any  condi- 
tion was  his  mind  at  rest.      1  remember  his 


lO 


talking  on  one  subject  and  at  the  same  time 
he  was,  mentally,  in  Honolulu  with  the 
Queen.  The  HaAvaiian  Islands  were  then  in 
a  disturbed  state  politically  and  Stevenson 
had  a  great  desire  to  see  the  Queen  back  on 
the  throne. 

His  mind  was  his  motive  power;  what- 
ever he  considered  he  should  be  doing  the 
body  was  compelled  to  yield  in  obedience  to 
the  brain.  When  from  overwork  the  body' 
and  brain  refused  to  do  duty  together,  then 
one  was  obliged  to  give  way  to  the  other. 
Knowing  that  the  human  system  has  its 
limits  and  to  prevent  any  unhappy  thoughts 
from  controlling  his  mind,  it  was  his  custom 
to  invite  the  ''band  boys"  from  whatever 
English  warship  might  be  in  port  to  come  up 
to  his  house  and  play.  Seated  on  a  veranda 
with    his    wife    and    stepdaughter,     "  Belle 


II 


Strong."  one  on  each  side,  and  the  native 
servants  comprising  his  household,  and  with 
a  small  clanship  of  native  servants  gave  to 
the  observer  a  strange  appearance.  Naked 
men  and  half  clad  women,  European  band 
bo3^s  and  natives  all  mixed  up,  while  the 
clear  notes  of  such  airs  as  the  author  might 
select  vibrated  among  the  hills,  giving  the 
impression  that  nature  was  assisting  to  make 
the  gathering  a  pleasant  one.  It  was  such 
surroundings,  which  Nature  alone  can  offer, 
that  gave  to  his  mind  a  freedom  of  thought 
and  which  enabled  him  to  grapple  with  the 
universe  itself.  If  Nature  has  furnished 
gifts  to  those  who  are  selected  to  enlighten 
their  fellowmen,  it  is  to  Nature  the}"  appeal 
and  look  for  assistance.  The  mind  should  be 
nursed  and  surrounded  by  Nature's  luxuries; 
it   is   only    from    this   world    that   man    can 


12 


speak.  To  define  the  grandest  phases  in 
Nature  one  must  have  dwelt  in  her  midst, 
and  where  is  she  more  liberal  with  gifts  than 
in  those  islands  placed  as  far  as  possible  from 
harm  and  mutilation  ?  Yet  man  will  be  the 
assassin  of  all  in  the  end. 

Long  before  his  death,  Stevenson  asked 
me  how  I  could  express  to  people  in  San 
Francisco  his  life  in  Samoa  so  the}^  would 
understand  and  realize  the  situation.  1  now 
sadh'  repeat  ni}^  version.  His  home  in 
Yailima  was  situated  about  half-wa}^  up  the 
mountain  side,  accessible  at  an  angle  of  15 
degrees,  on  a  plateau  formerly  occupied  b}^ 
native  chiefs,  many  of  the  trees  (cocoanut) 
3^et  standing  as  landmarks.  Here,  in  the 
early  morning,  from  five  to  half -past  five, 
after  having  his  coffee,  he  would  sit  in  one 
of  the  upper  rooms,  the  balm}'  atmosphere  of 


13 

the  gentle  trade   winds  sifting  through  the 
tropical    foliage,    the    mountain    extending 
some  900  feet  above  his   home   and   thickh^ 
clad  with  trees   indigenous   to   the   soil,    in- 
habited by  birds  singing  their  national  airs. 
From  this  altitude  he  could  look  down  into 
the   harbor   of  Apia   where   the   ships   were 
lying.     Far  out  on  the  horizon,  distant  t went}^ 
miles,  he  could  discern  the  ships  and   mail 
steamers   approaching   the    Island   bringing 
with  them  letters  from  his  far  distant  home. 
Here  in  his  new  home,  in  the  virgin  soil  of  a 
tropical  island,  he  experienced  the   pleaures 
of   an  iuA'alid  beginning,  after  many  3'ears, 
to    resume    an   outdoor    life    and    exercise. 
In  one  of  his  letters  to   his    friend.    Calvin, 
he    says:     "  Nothing     is    so    inieresting    as 
weeding,    clearing    and   path-making.     The 
oversight  of  laborers  becomes  a  disease.     It 


14 


is  quite  an  effort  not  to  drop  into  the  farmer 
and  it  does  make  you  feel  so  well.  "'  ""  ^" 
I  scarce  pull  up  a  weed  but  I  invent  a 
sentence  on  the  matter  to  5^ourself."  It  was 
here,  with  these  surroundings,  that  Mr. 
Stevenson's  best  and  most  prominent  works 
were  produced. 

Mr.  Stevenson's  mode  of  attire  was  notice- 
able to  strangers.  Light  colored,  tight  fit- 
ting pants,  top  boots,  velvet  jacket  and  a  shirt 
with  a  turn  down  collar  and  loose  tie;  in  fact, 
his  dress  was  slightly  Byronic,  but  more 
Stevenson. 

When  at  his  desk  Mr.  Stevenson  wrote 
from  six  A.M.  to  eleven  A.M.  and  from 
noon  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  omitting 
the  siesta,  so  dear  to  Europeans  in  the 
tropics. 

The  sad  news  of  Stevenson's  death,  which 


15 


was  flashed  over  the  wires  as  soon  as  it  came 
within  reach  of  tele<^raphic  communication, 
was  a  blow  not  onl}^  to  the  world  of  letters, 
but  to  all  the  civilized  world.  He  had  a 
mind  laden  with  noble  sentiments,  lived  a 
life  punctuated  by  silent  beneficence,  was 
brave  as  a  lion  when  surrounded  by  danger, 
pleasant,  affable  and  genial  in  domestic  life, 
feared  b}"  his  enemies  and  beloved  b}'  his 
friends. 

His  grave  is  on  the  very  apex  of  Viamea 
Mountain,  where  a  monument  will  mark  the 
last  resting-place  of  one  of  the  greatest 
authors  of  the  present  century.  Nature  has 
been  more  kind  for  she  has  given  liim  the 
Island  itself,  anchored  in  its  ocean  bed,  there 
to  remain  forever  and  forever.  Stevenson 
has  given  to  Samoa  a  place  in  histor}^  such 
as   Napoleon  gave  to  St.  Helena,    one  from 


i6 


■choice,  the  other  from  force;  one  wielded  the 
pen,  the  other  the  sword. 

Whatever  Mr.  Stevenson's  political  aspira- 
tions may  have  been  I  cannot  say.  His 
apparent  leaning  towards  the  cause  of  King 
Malietoa  was  the  outcome  of  his  intense 
sympathy  for  the  weak  rather  than  for 
the  political  troubles  of  that  unfortunate 
monarch.  Proud  of  his  ancestry  of  clansmen 
in  his  own  beloved  Scotland,  he  entered  into 
and  partook  of  the  joy,  hopes  and  fears  of  the 
native  chiefs  in  and  around  his  district.  His 
home,  Vailima,  was  built  on  the  site  of  their 
ancient  stronghold.  He  loved  to  hear  them 
recount  the  valorous  deeds  of  their  fore- 
fathers and  his  interest  in  them  never 
flagged.  His  S3^mpathetic  nature  won  these 
poor  natives  to  him.  They  loved  him  and 
looked  up  to  him  for  advice,  and  the  advice 


i 


17 

that  he  gave  them  was  ever  on  the  side  of 
peace. 

The  growing  power  of  Stevenson  with 
these  primitive,  unlettered  people  caused 
grave  alarm  among  the  German  residents  in 
the  Samoan  Islands,  whose  sympathies  and 
interests  lay  with  the  opposite  party.  At 
one  time  it  was  rumored  that  he  was  acting 
in  the  interests  of  Great  Britain,  but  it  was 
only  rumor.  His  power  with  the  islanders 
was  certainly  very  great,  but  the  idea  of 
accepting  ofhce  in  their  behalf  never  once 
entered  his  mind. 

His  manner  of  life  was  frugal  and  abste- 
mious. He  arose  early,  breakfasted  at  six, 
worked  at  his  desk  from  seven  until  lunch 
and  from  two  until  five  P.M.;  bed  at  eight- 
thirty  and  usually  his  lamp  was  out  by  ten. 
It  is  needless  to   say    he   was   an    extraordi- 


i8 

narily  productive  writer.  At  times  when  his 
literar}"  work  became  monotonous  he  would 
join  his  native  workers  in  the  bush,  dropping 
down  the  woods  and  tropical  undergrowth. 
This,  in  addition  to  his  pon}^  and  flageolet, 
constituted  his  everyda}^  life  in  "Apia." 
The  constant  care  and  watchfulness  of  his 
wife,  the  "  Fann}"  "  of  whom  he  speaks  so 
frequently  and  so  tenderh^  in  his  letters, 
did  much  to  prolong  his  life. 

It  has  seldom  fallen  to  the  lot  of  an  author 
to  be  surrounded  by  such  a  literar}^  house- 
hold. 

During  the  disturbed  condition  of  the 
countr}^  Matafa  retired  to  his  stronghold  on 
the  small  island  of  Monono.  Acting  on 
advice,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  British 
war-ship  on  that  station  in  consideration  of 
his  being  treated  as  became  his  rank.     From 


19 

some  unknown  cause  he  was  handed  to  a 
German  man-of-war,  who,  in  turn,  deported 
him  to  the  Marshall  Islands  and  there 
limited  him  to  a  coral  reef.  The  twent}^- four 
lesser  chiefs  who  surrendered  with  Matafa 
were  imprisoned  at  Apia,  and  but  for  the 
private  funds  supplied  by  Mr.  Stevenson 
many  of  them  would  have  died  of  starvation 
and  the  want  of  medical  attention.  Steven- 
son, with  the  Roman  Catholic  priest,  used  all 
the  influence  possible  in  effecting  their  re- 
lease, which  was  accomplished  after  one 
3^ear's  imprisonment. 

To  show  their  appreciation  of  his  care  and 
interest  during  their  incarceration  these 
twenty-four  lesser  chiefs  built  with  their 
own  hands  a  graded  road  through  the 
tangled,  tropical  forest,  where  heretofore 
was  only  a  mountain  trail,  and  termed  it  the 


20 


"Road   of    Gratitude,"    or,    more    properly 

translated,     "Road   of   the   Loving   Heart." 

This  road  extended  from  Apia  to  his  house, 

Vailima. 

H.   G.   Morse. 


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